


Haven

by oly_chic



Series: Prowl x Jazz Community 2020 Annual Challenge [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Illegal Activities, Kidnapping, fake tourism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26688673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oly_chic/pseuds/oly_chic
Summary: Jazz is looking to find a protected home from an assassin hunting him, but his best chances are somewhere unlikely he can relocate. Hopefully, he can sneak in and stay safe.
Series: Prowl x Jazz Community 2020 Annual Challenge [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929142
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30
Collections: ProwlxJazz Anniversary 2020





	1. On The Run

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Transformers.
> 
> This is for the P/J 2020 challenge from the Dreamwidth community. Prompts are taken from a bingo card row.
> 
> Chapter 1 Prompt: “On the run”  
> Chapter 2 Prompt: "Kidnapped"

Jazz sat on the transport’s bench seat, which was cleaner than half the other occupants of the transport. He wasn’t particularly clean himself, but he tried his best to look good enough enough to be accepted as a tourist in Praxus. His plan was simple, to get a tourist visa and then disappear. Getting an extended-stay visa in Praxus was notoriously difficult, let alone Polyhexian immigrant status. He hoped that was enough to throw his would-be assassin off his trail.

It wasn’t his fault, really. The intel he had on an assignment for cleaning up a crew within his own organization was mishandled and he was given the names and location of a rival mob instead. Rather than be hailed by his leadership for cleaning up traitors he was told to run and never look back.

He had only a small bag of precious items and an electro-bass on him. Jazz knew to travel light so he could disappear easy in crowds, especially crowds at the border, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t glum about leaving behind other possessions. He probably should have left the electro-bass but that was his most prized possession.

Jazz looked out the window and saw the dusty terrain begin to clear and a great wall emerge. Soon he would be at Praxus’s grand border wall. He took a deep in-vent and steadied himself. His story about being a tourist needed to be simple but airtight.

The border felt chaotic, but soon Jazz understood there were lines of those applying for visas and those rejected. Many of the rejected were begging guards to be given a second chance. He hoped he wouldn’t know what it was like to be in the rejected line since he didn’t know what city-state to head to next. Iacon and Kaon were too obvious, as were most of the smaller cities he could muster.

After a joor it was his turn to approach the boarder guard, and he looked to see a black-and-white Praxian with a red chevron. The guard said to him, “Name and passport, please.”

He obliged and gave his documents. “Jazz of Polyhex.”

“What’s your intent on coming to Praxus?”

“Tourism.”

“For how long?” The guard didn’t look up from Jazz’s documents.

“Ninety orns,” he answered, using the max allowed on any one travel visa.

That might have been a mistake, he realized when the guard’s optics sharpened, and he finally looked at Jazz. His expression was skeptical, as subtle as it was on his otherwise-cool demeanor. “What do you plan to do for ninety orns?”

“Tour the city.”

“While Praxus is quite large, it’s tourism does not take ninety orns.”

“Then why have that as an option?” Jazz asked, his paranoia starting to act up.

“It’s for working tourist.”

Jazz chuckled, trying to play it off as if awkward. “You caught me; I’m a cultural expert for a Polyhex magazine and I’ve been tasked with absorbing as much of Praxus as I can for an article.”

“Really?” The guard’s tone didn’t sound convinced. “And you weren’t intending to say anything because…? Surely a researcher as yourself would have researched the visa requirements and descriptions.”

“Ah, well, I thought as part of my research I would see what it’s like to be an ordinary citizen touring Praxus, as my readers usually are.”

“Then it would be better to have a shorter visa, perhaps for two deca-orns. That’s not mentioning how long it would take to release an article if you waited a full ninety orns just to experience Praxus. I’m certain a writer taking so long would not be well received by editors.”

He was in a jam now because his intended story was rendered useless, and he didn’t know enough about magazines to fake a better cover story. It wasn’t his first attempt at cultural studies, however, so he tried scrapping what he could from previous city-state experiences.

Jazz put his hand on his hip. “Look, this is how I operate, okay? It’s how I’ve done Iacon and other city-states. My boss knows I take my time to really build an article that links to other articles about what types of vacations are available. Is my reader an intellectual looking for museums? What about the music scene? Does Praxus even offer parties? Each type of reader only wants to read about their kind of vacation instead of a long list of random possibilities.”

The only answer to his attempt at weaving cultural studies into job activities was a frown. Did his story work, or at least work enough to stop the inquisition?

“Hey,” Jazz said with a shrug, “if you have a problem with my methods then let me read you some of my articles from memory. I’m sure that’ll be worth your time and everyone in this line.” Hopefully putting the guard on the defensive wasn’t a dumb move.

“You don’t carry your articles on you? I read quite fast.”

“Not this time, I’ve done it so many times now I know the format.”

His nameless inquirer looked at the long line behind Jazz, and then back at Jazz. “If you’ve done this so many times by now, then surely you can get done in three deca-orns. If not, then feel free to reapply at the border for an extension. It’s not much more difficult than this.”

Jazz bit his glossa to not say that wasn’t comforting. “Challenge accepted.”

The guard handed back his documents with a visa. “Good luck, perhaps I’ll see you sometime during those forty-five orns.”

“Uh, why would a border guard see me inside the city?” Jazz asked as he grabbed everything.

“I’m not a boarder guard, I’m a junior Enforcer for a district that includes tourist activities. This just happens to be my last orn on my rotation for assisting border guards before I go back to duty.”

“Oh,” Jazz fought gulping. “Well, thanks for the visa and guess I might be seeing you.”

“I suspect you will.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still Sep by my calendar!

His steps quick and light, Jazz turned down an alley he knew to be empty at this time of the evening. He kept walking until his tuned audials heard the faint sound of steps turning into the same alley, so he spun around to face the other mech. “Why are you following me?”

The black and white Enforcer with the red chevron stopped, his expression hardening. “You are here on an expired visa, as of an orn ago.”

With the mention of the visa he remembered where he saw the Enforcer. “Wait, you’re that boarder control guard. Did you really stalk me all this time?”

“Enforcers do not stalk; we monitor potential situations. Now come with me and I’ll escort you to pick up your things, or I can arrest you and take you straight to the border.”

Jazz pressed his lips as he weighed his options. Fight now, fight later, argue, or run. Obeying wasn’t in his thoughts. “Listen, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. Just leave me alone and I’ll leave Praxus once it’s safe for me out there. I’ve given Praxus no troubles.”

“Praxus does not like unwelcome guests. Are you freely coming with me or not?” The Enforcer took a step forward.

Jazz was reconsidering his options when he noticed another mech turn down the alley. Immediately he began to call for a distraction, but as the first words left his mouth he realized where he’d seen the black and grey mech. “Watch out!”

The Enforcer jerked his helm but was too late and a large baton smashed into the back of his helm, causing him to crumple to the ground. Jazz gasped but didn’t waste time to run away. Unfortunately, the attacker was ready for Jazz making another quick escape, as he had when they met in Polyhex, and a thick gas encompassed Jazz from behind. He fell, and everything offlined.

The next thing he knew was a pounding helmache and the smell of metal burning. He onlined his optics and visor, and realized he was looking down at a smelter from an edge. Jazz gasped and scrambled back but shortly collided with a force field. He looked around and realized he was blocked in on three sides, with the fourth “wall” being an edge over a smelter.

On his right was the unconscious form of the Enforcer, and the assassin running his hands over him. “What are you doing?” Jazz asked in a slurred voice.

The assassin at him. “Making sure this one doesn’t have any weapons on him or his subspace pockets. I did the same to you, Jazz.”

“Look, I know you think you know who I am, but you got it all wrong. It was an accidental setup back in Polyhex.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

His optic ridges shot up. “Excuse me? The truth doesn’t matter?”

“No, only the credits do and the credits’ beholder wants you to suffer.”

Jazz frowned. “I thought I was wanted dead.”

He chuckled. “That too, but not immediately dead. I’ll be back as soon as I find what this… Prowl… fetches for his suffering or death,” the assassin said as he read the Enforcer’s credentials. He slipped back and pointed a clicker up at the ceiling. The generator creating a force field around Jazz hummed and a second three-wall cell formed around Prowl.

Jazz studied the generator but didn’t see any weak points from his location. If he had something with a lot of electric energy, he might be able to overload that model, but he didn’t. All he had left in his subspace pockets were music instrument pieces, such as strings.

After another breem passing, the Enforcer groaned and unsteadily picked himself up. Jazz called out, his voice more normal, “Careful. You’re near a very unpleasant fate.”

Prowl moved his helm and saw the edge and scrambled away much like Jazz had earlier. The Enforcer touched the back of his helm and Jazz noted a dent. “What happened?” He sounded disorientated.

“You got between me and what made me come to Praxus, and you lost.”

“Please explain better.”

Jazz dryly chuckled. “Blunt truth? I made a teeny, tiny mistake in Polyhex and now an assassin has us in his claws.”

Prowl finally looked at him better, the pained haze in his optics slowly clearing. “That barely helps. Where is he?”

“Don’t know.” Jazz decided to not yet break the news to Prowl that unfortune awaited him as well. Might prove to be a distraction. “Let’s focus on getting out. I don’t see anything, and he cleared our subspaces of all useful stuff.”

Prowl looked about and his optics landed on the force field generator. “That model can be overloaded by a large energy source.”

“Yeah, but where are we going to get one? Like I said, we have nothing useful.”

Prowl shook his helm. “Not true. He didn’t take this.” The Praxian pulled out what looked like a thick, telescoping pointer with a ball at the end of the collapsed stick.

“A pointer?”

“My smallest baton. My _electrified_ baton.”

“That would be awesome if there was some way to hold the button locked into the ‘on’ position. Don’t suppose you have something?”

“Nothing usable. Do you have something, like a band?”

“No – wait, I have musical strings! We can tie one around the baton and tighten it around the button so it’s locked down.”

“Good, hand it over.”

Jazz handed the thickest string he had on him, and Prowl quickly tied the baton so it was stuck on. Jazz could hear and feel its energy field, and Prowl was standing a few paces away. Prowl looked up and chewed his lip as he did a couple of testing swings, and then let loose as he tossed it.

The baton crashed into the generator and hung there for an impossibly long klik. Then it fell, but as it did the generator fritz and the force fields dropped. The two captive mechs moved away from the cells.

“We need to escape and find help,” Prowl assessed.

Jazz hobbled closer to Prowl, acting as if he was injured. “I’ll slow you down, you need to go on without me and I’ll wait here. He got me good while you were out.”

“Wait in the shadows and do _not_ engage him.”

_Yeah, right,_ Jazz silently retorted. “Can do.”

Prowl lingered for a moment but then disappeared down some steps off the platform. Meanwhile, as soon as he was gone, Jazz straightened out and disappeared into the dark. He wished he hadn’t given Prowl his thickest string, as he pulled out his next thickest string. He wrapped the edges around his hands and pulled it taunt. While a garrote wire wouldn’t kill a mech, it could incapacitate him if done right.

Scurrying steps echoed as the assassin came about from a different direction than Prowl left. Jazz hid in a spot he knew the mech was likely to pass by as he checked the situation, and as soon as the mech’s back was to Jazz, the hiding mech silently leaped out. The garrote wire wrapped around the other’s neck.

The assassin branded a knife and stabbed backwards into Jazz’s torso, and Jazz cried out but held firm. He tried continuing to hold firm but when he was stabbed a second time he let go and pulled back while the knife was still in his side. Jazz rolled away and looked at the other mech, who was struggling to move in a coordinated manner. He spared a klik to assess his wound and determined the knife could be removed without him bleeding out.

“This is mine now, slagger,” Jazz growled as he flipped the knife around in his hand. “Time to see who’s more superior.”

The mech snarled and charged Jazz, although the motion was still not fully coordinated. Jazz almost made it out of the way, but the knife wounds slowed down his escape and the mech’s shoulder collided into Jazz’s hip. They went down and fought over the knife.

Jazz’s assailant was bigger and starting to get control when Jazz kicked him in the seam between his pelvic armor and leg, his thinner but sharp armor piercing the seam. He screamed and Jazz scrabbled up to pull him into a kneeling hold, now with the knife resting a crucial energon line in his neck.

“Jazz, stop!”

The plea came not from the assassin but from a newly familiar voice. Jazz didn’t move so his visor remained locked on the kneeling mech, but his optics flicked to look at a worried Prowl. “Get out of here.”

“Don’t become like him and take a life.”

“If he lives, he or others like him will keep coming after me. You don’t know me; you don’t know if I’m already like him.”

“I do know you, more than you think.” Prowl stepped closer, his hand out. “I’ve seen you perform, but not only at clubs. At orphanages, too. I’ve seen you read to those unable to afford better optics. You have more than once helped a disabled mech get into a transporter, even during times when you were running late. That’s not the actions of someone who easily takes lives.”

Jazz stared at Prowl. “How can you know that about me? Have you really been ‘monitoring’ me this whole time?”

Prowl hesitated. “It started off as simple monitoring, but the more I noted about you from the security feeds I had the assistants pull, the more I realized you weren’t some simple criminal trying to make a new and corrupt life for himself in Praxus. It seemed like you were willing to be one of the good ones, and because of the darkness in Praxus I see as an Enforcer, I appreciated it every time you did something unnecessarily kind.”

“But you still consider me a criminal – or at least an ‘unwanted guest.’”

“I think you have the capacity in you to be better than a criminal. And I’m sorry about the unwanted guest comment, that was my superiors talking more than me.”

“You’re the one that stalked me, not your superiors,” Jazz rebutted. “You thought me a criminal and you were right. I came here because I was forced to flee from my old life, a life of the not-so-legal kind. Now let me get rid of this danger and I can go anywhere other than Praxus or Polyhex. Let me be safe,” Jazz added as a plea.

“Please don’t do this,” Prowl pleaded back. “I can only help you if you don’t harm him. I wasn’t sure what to do about you, but this morning my superiors told me to collect you. I dragged my peds all orn because I didn’t want to remove someone who has shown only compassion and love. Things in Praxus are not what they seem, but you were a light from what I usually monitor. Don’t waste away in a cell.”

Jazz chewed his lip. “How can you help me?”

“You said you were fleeing from Polyhex? With the right details I can help you apply for refugee status.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means you have a chance to live here, so long as you work with the Enforcer assigned your case. Give me the knife and you can find out.”

“Would you be assigned to my case?”

“Possibly, if you want it?”

Jazz pressed his lips. “It’s been a long time since someone saw me more than an asset.”

“Give me the knife and I promise you that you’ll have an opportunity to live as more than asset. I will see to that because I believe in you.”

Jazz stared hard into Prowl’s face and looked for signs of lies but found none. He tossed the knife across the floor to Prowl. The Enforcer subtly smiled. “Good. Now as for you,” Prowl said to the assassin, “there’s nothing stopping me from apprehending you with this knife if you try anything. I recommend not trying, seeing how I was able to get a message out and Enforcers are on their way here. You can’t escape.”

The mech growled but said nothing. The three of them stayed locked into their positions until flying lights illuminated the building and then Enforcers came. They grabbed the assassin and one grabbed Jazz.

“Not him,” Prowl said to the Enforcer holding Jazz by his wrists. “I’m taking him in for emergency status.”

“But he’s an intruder!”

“Leave him to me,” Prowl firmly said. The Enforcer removed his hands and stepped away. Prowl approached Jazz.

They stared at each other for a few kliks until Jazz said, “So what now?” He was worried he was about to learn it was all talk, and his vents went silent when Prowl didn’t respond at first.

“Now… now I take you to a shelter so you can stay there until emergency court in the morning.”

“Are you going to stay with me?”

“I have to make sure you don’t sneak away and hid from us, so yes,” Prowl answered.

Jazz nervously smiled. “So, I guess it’s time for you to stop hiding behind a monitor and get to know me beyond a screen.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“Good, because I want to get to know you.” Jazz really did want to get to know the Enforcer that had studied Jazz and determined that he was worth more than dirty work. Perhaps something would come out of their meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit open ended about what's the deal with Praxus and it's fear of outsiders. Another prompt that may lead to sequel another day.


End file.
